


Say You'll Stay

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: And how horrible they look, Connor McDavid deserves a break, Fluff, Getting Together, How the Oilers got their groove back, I can't believe I wrote this pairing, Leon is an awesome friend, Leon meddles, M/M, OR IS IT??, Playoff Beards, future timeline, totally au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-25 21:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18171632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: He snaps a selfie and sends it to Dylan figuring he’ll appreciate the clean look. He follows it up with, 'no beard burn now ;P', feeling recklessly brave.'Looking good davo', is followed quickly by, 'but i dont mind a little beard burn'





	Say You'll Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I have no excuse for this except that someone should reunite these two already before they both implode.   
> Any mistakes are my own, and I hoard them greedily; don't own the boys unfortunately.

It’s pushing eight and Connor’s sacked out on his couch in sweats. The television is on in the background playing sportsnet on low and his phone is on his stomach because Dylan had told him to _ stop moping and get up _ a couple of hours ago and then had stopped replying to his, admittedly increasingly annoying, texts. The blinds are drawn against the clear night sky, he’s got a tub of cookie dough ice cream waiting for him in the freezer- it’s not like he has to worry about a carefully planned out health plan now- and he’s prepared to spend the next few days  _ at least _ doing absolutely  _ nothing _ before he decides how soon to head home for the summer. 

His phone buzzes on his chest, and figuring Dylan has finally given in to his antics, he opens it up without really looking. 

_ Parents getting in tonight, come with me to get them?  _

Connor ignores the sharp pang of disappointment when it turns out to be Leon.

He squints at the phone trying to remember if Leon had mentioned his parents coming to visit. Last he’d heard he’d been flying home after they’d cleaned out their lockers. 

He considers pretending he didn’t get the text and staying on the couch. A few more hours and he might actually melt into it if he tries hard enough. 

His phone buzzes in his hands as he’s thinking it over.

_ Coming to get u in an hour. Dress nice _

Connor groans, dropping his phone onto his chest and scrubbing his hands over his face. The short, bristly hairs of his beard scratch at his palms. It’s less patchy this year, was really starting to come in. He likes to think that given another month it would have filled out the way it should. Maybe be something Dylan  _ can’t _ chirp him about. Not that Dylan had any more luck growing his in; his was patchy as hell before he’d shaved it off, sending Connor a picture right after of his smooth, pink cheeks and sweet, albeit dimmed, smile. 

Guess he won’t be finding out this year. 

His phone buzzes twice, quickly, and he gives in, pushing to his feet. It’s not really a chore going along for the ride, maybe some fresh air will help. Besides, the Draisaitl’s are cool people. He checks his phone.

_ Stop moping _ , reads the first text.  _ And shave that thing off ur face u look like u glued pubes to ur chin.  _

Their son’s sure as hell not.

 

::

 

Leon shows up early, banging on the door until Connor gives in and lets him in. He runs a critical eye over the jeans and button down Connor’s thrown on, which-  _ weird _ . The Draisaitls have seen him hung over and passed out on their son’s couch, it’s a little late for a good first impression. 

“I was worried that thing had eaten your face,” Leon chirps him, patting his freshly shaven cheeks with a grin. Connor bats his hands away, rolling his eyes. Just because _ Leon _ can grow an actual beard doesn’t mean Connor’s attempt was  _ that  _ bad. 

“Nursey started a pool on how long you would try and keep it,” Leon confides in the car.

“Did you make me shave so you could win?” 

“I had to forfeit actually.” He hands over a still steaming double double so Connor figures he can find it in his heart to forgive him. “I figured you’d try and keep it until June.”

Connor deadarms him as Leon laughs. It’s probably a good thing they haven’t made it out of Connor’s-  _ unnecessarily huge _ \- driveway yet. He’d asked Ryan for help looking when he’d moved and had ended up with a place that could fit  _ all _ of the guys cars instead of just his own. To promote team bonding or some shit. They all carpooled anyways.

The traffic in Edmonton isn’t too bad at this time of night and they make good time headed to the airport. By the time he’s done his coffee, Connor’s feeling a little more willing to face the world. He snaps a selfie and sends it to Dylan figuring he’ll appreciate the clean look. He follows it up with,  _ no beard burn now ;P _ , feeling recklessly brave.

By the time they’re pulling into Arrivals, Connor still hasn’t gotten a reply. He’s feeling put out by it; Dylan’s glued to his phone most of the time and radio silence from him usually means Connor’s done something dumb and Dylan’s pissed. He scrolls back up through the messages but it’s their usual just this side of flirty messages that straddles some invisible line that Connor’s still trying to figure out how to pass. 

There’s a bit of traffic, a few planes having landed, so Leon pulls up next to the curb as a spot becomes available.

“Run in and grab them, okay?” Leon twists in his seat, reaching into the back. He reappears with a bouquet of wildflowers, thrusting them into Connor’s hands. “And take these.” 

“You got your mom flowers?” Connor giggles a little. He shoves a baseball cap and glasses on. He wouldn’t give up hockey for anything but sometimes going out was more effort than it warranted. “Aren’t you  _ sweet _ .”

“Shut up and get your ass moving.” Leon rolls his eyes. “I’ll circle around.” 

Connor doesn’t expect to take too long, he’s sure the Draisaitle’s will be anxious to see their son. 

The terminal is abuzz with activity, so Connor stakes out a post off to the side of all the people reuniting, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. He gets a few looks but most people are in their own world, or willing to respect his privacy and he gets left alone. His phone buzzes in his pocket so he tugs it out, grinning when he sees who it is.

_ Looking good davo _ is followed quickly by,  _ but i dont mind a little beard burn _

He flushes, heat coursing through him at the thought of Dylan’s smooth skin marked up by Connor. He rubs the back of his hand against his cheek, feeling the heat of his blush and hoping it goes down by the time he finds Leon’s parents.

_ I could grow it back _ , he’s offering a lot more than just regrowing his playoff beard. His pulse picks up and he tries not to wait too eagerly for the response.

_ And cover up those pretty pink cheeks?? _ He doesn’t have to wonder long at Dylan’s response as a second comes in. 

_ I can think of other ways to leave your mark _

Belatedly he realizes he’s supposed to be keeping an eye out for Leon’s parents and he glances around. The crowd is thinning out but he doesn’t see them. He ducks back down to his phone biting his lip as he taps out his reply.

_ You offering? _

And that’s the question, isn’t it? Are they finally going to cross that line. His heart is thundering in his chest and he must look bizarre, grinning down at his phone like an idiot, cheeks bright red. He can’t find it in himself to care, not if it gets him what he’s wanted since they were dumb kids and thought they’d get to spend the next decade doing what they loved together.

_ Next time i see you _

Connor lets out a long exhale at the dizzying mix of elation and disappointment. Maybe,  _ maybe _ he can have this but. But Dylan’s in another  _ country _ and Connor is in Edmonton. There’s over a  _ thousand _ miles between them. 

_ Wish u were here _ , Connor sends before he can talk himself out of it. 

There isn’t an immediate reply this time and Connor manages to pull his gaze away from his phone to scan the terminal again. There’s a few stragglers, a few people pushing carts out from customs. 

He shoots a quick text to Leon to let him know his parents haven’t come through yet. 

“Love the disguise,” a familiar voice says and Connor glances up reflexively. “The glasses really sell it. Makes you look like Clark Kent.” 

Connor swears he feels his heart stop.

“ _ Stromer?” _ He demands and if his voice cracks a little, well, he’ll deny it till the day he dies.

Dylan’s got a duffle over his shoulder, looking tired and pale, his hood thrown up over his dark hair and is absolutely the most beautiful thing Connor’s ever seen. “How are you here?” 

Dylan takes a step forwards and Connor’s moving before he’s even aware of it, tugging him in for a tight, warm hug.

“I flew in,” Dylan laughs, clinging just as tightly, and buries his face in Connor’s neck. He can feel his lips moving against his bare skin and it sends pleasant little shivers along his spine. He feels like he’s about to burst at the seams.

“No shit.”

“Yeah,” Dylan pulls back and Connor lets him go reluctantly, though he doesn’t go far. “Flowers. Nice touch.” He gestures at the bouquet Connor forgot he was holding.

“Oh, yeah- they’re for Leon’s mom, Drai’s not gonna  _ believe _ I ran into you...” he trails off as Dylan starts giggling. It takes him a moment to put the pieces together, the empty terminal,  _ Dylan _ , but when it does he isn’t sure whether to kill Leon or buy him dinner. “You guys  _ planned _ this?”

Dylan shrugs, looking far too pleased. 

“I had some news I needed to share and didn’t want to do it over the phone.” Dylan’s smile is  _ stunning _ and Connor can’t get over how he managed to go for so long without seeing it. “So Drai suggested the surprise.” 

“You guys are  _ dicks _ ,” Connor’s laughing as he says it, pressing the flowers into Dylan’s hands and stealing the duffle to sling over his own shoulder. Dylan squeezes his hand and Connor is reminded of the texts they’d been sending moments before. His cheeks heat, something that doesn’t go unnoticed as Dylan’s gaze sharpens. 

He clears his throat, all too aware that they’re in public. 

“C’mon, Drai should be back with the car.” 

Dylan stays pressed close to his side as they make their way from the terminal into the cool night air. Their shoulders bump, hands brush and each touch sends a wave of  _ want _ through Connor. 

He bites his tongue and pushes through it. 

He’s waited  _ years _ , he can last a little while longer.

Probably.

The car is easy to spot. Leon’s grinning when they climb in. Connor gives Dylan the front seat, climbing into the back to stop himself from temptation and so he can still keep an eye on him, reassure himself that this is  _ real. _

“Did he spot you?” Leon pulls out into traffic, smirk evident in his voice.

“Nope, he was a little distracted.” 

Connor flushes as he remembers what was keeping him distracted. Leon ignores his flaming cheeks, and Connor seriously owes him dinner, making small talk as they wind their way through the light traffic.

It feels like forever and no time at all before they’re pulling up to Connor’s house. 

“You wanna come in for a drink?” He offers, manners catching up to him and as a thanks- for getting him off the couch, for getting him out of his mood, for  _ Dylan _ . 

“Not a chance in hell,” Leon glances between the pair of them, and Connor wonders how obvious they are, if Leon can tell how badly he’s itching to get inside. “You can buy me lunch later this week.”

They watch him pull away, taillights fading into the night and when Connor can’t put it off any longer he unlocks his front door, letting Dylan in. 

Dylan hasn’t been to the new house yet, so they drop his bag in the living room and Connor walks him through it- it really is too big for just him and Dylan chirps him for having more money than brains but he’s thinking about getting a dog or two to keep him company.

“Or a roommate,” Dylan quips but Connor knows the only person he’d want to share his space with and he lives hundreds of miles away for most of the year. 

Eventually they end up in the kitchen, a beer for each of them. 

“So why I’m here,” 

“About the texts,”

They both pause, startled. Then Connor starts laughing, and Dylan is quick to follow. He sets his beer down on the counter, as the tension seeps away and all that is left is anticipation. This is  _ Dylan.  _

He crosses the distance between them, and Dylan sets down his own beer, hands coming up to rest on Connor’s waist. His grip is strong, warm and stops Connor from crossing that final distance between them. 

He frowns, certain now that he hadn’t read the situation wrong. He cups Dylan’s cheeks, thumbs stroking the thin, bruised skin under his eyes, chest tight at the way Dylan leans into the touch.

“I want to kiss you.” He admits, voice  _ raw _ . 

Dylan’s eyes flutter shut and he lets out a small gasp but his grip doesn’t slip.

“Me too,” Dylan clears his throat, and there’s so much  _ heat  _ in his gaze when he meets Connor’s. “But I really need to tell you why I’m here first.” 

“You mean you didn’t just miss me?” Connor chirps weakly and Dylan huffs out a laugh and pulls back just enough to put some space between them. Before Connor can feel too disappointed, he catches his hand, squeezing and holding on. 

“That’s part of it.” Dylan admits. “A big part of it actually. But I wanted to tell you the news before we can’t keep it quiet any longer.” 

“Are you okay?” Connor can think of a million and one things that Dylan wouldn’t want reporters to find out about, especially before Connor, and most of them aren’t good. 

“I’m fine, actually, I’m  _ awesome _ .” Dylan laughs and uses his free hand to dig out his phone. He unlocks it, scrolling through until he finds what he’s looking for and then hands it to Connor. 

It’s an email and Connor doesn’t understand what he’s looking at, at first. He spots the Oiler’s GM’s signature at the bottom though and his heart starts pounding. He forces himself to read the email through, from top to bottom and by the time he’s done his face is sore from how wide he’s smiling.

“Is this real?” He forces himself to ask, to be sure.

“We’re out of the playoffs and my contract is up in July.” Dylan takes his phone back, locking it and shoving it in his pocket. “I flew in, partially, to sign the paperwork.”

Connor lets out a cry of delight and yanks Dylan in for a bone crushing hug. 

“Fuck,” he pulls back, cupping Dylan’s face and tipping their foreheads together. He can’t believe it’s  _ real.  _ He doesn’t get this kind of luck- he feels like he’s doomed to slug it out, year after year alone despite how hard the rest of the team tries. But with Dylan, it’s always come as easy as breathing. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“Guess all that karma finally paid off,” Dylan teases. “Don’t worry, I’m here to save the day as always.”

Connor shuts him up the best way he knows how. 

Dylan’s laughter is quickly muffled by the kiss, melting into a moan as his hands thread their way through Connor’s hair, tugging on the long strands in a way that makes Connor  _ melt _ . 

There isn’t much talking after  _ that _ .

 

::

 

The next year they get the chance to  _ really _ grow out their playoff beards. The beard burn is  _ totally worth it _ .

Leon’s is still better than both of theirs.

  
  



End file.
